


Step 1: Tenderize the Meat

by rippedsaurian



Category: Live a Hero (Video Game)
Genre: Body Worship, Hyper Muscles, M/M, Male Lactation, Muscle Growth, Muscles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:40:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29177322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippedsaurian/pseuds/rippedsaurian
Summary: After a long, tiring day, you finally get some much-needed relief with your local lightning superhero.
Kudos: 14





	Step 1: Tenderize the Meat

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based on an unpublished one-shot by Tidalll. Started off as simple revisions/corrections to the text, and then transformed into its own original spinoff story.

It’s only a week into your last year at university, and you've already been given a mountain of work. Today was particularly grueling. Your classwork demanded your attention until after the sun had set, so you now stand at the front door to your house at 7pm, exhausted. You reach for the doorknob. What you wouldn’t give for some way to unwind and relax. 

To your surprise, the door is unlocked. 

You open it and step inside, and the aroma of sautéed meats and eggs welcomes you home. You aren’t able to pick out complicated seasonings, so the person in the kitchen is… probably not a very experienced chef. However, knowing that someone went out of their way to prepare a meal for you when you got home? You’re not particularly hungry, but your mood gently brightens. 

As you shuffle further into the house and approach the kitchen, the sizzling of fat and egg white makes its way to your ears. Underneath those sounds, you also pick up a quiet whistling; it’s a bumbling cartwheel of a melody you know all too well from the news and various online videos. Given these clues, you’re pretty sure you know the identity of the person here; however, as you approach the kitchen’s entranceway, just to be safe… you lean your head over to peek. Your suspicions are confirmed as you are greeted with the broad back of Ryekie, known as the superhero Zap the Justice, at the stovetop. 

Ryekie had taken off his coat and was wearing his standard white dress shirt and green tie, with a cute, frilly pink apron you had given him last Valentine’s on top of those garments for protection. You watched him work. Even through the multiple layers of fabric, it was easy to describe his physique as “sculpted.” Or perhaps, “sculpted” was an understatement. He loved to use this particular apron, which sports attractive patchwork and cheeky “Kiss the Hero” embroidery, but trying the garment on for the first time almost led to the straps completely snapping off. Ryekie was… immense. He’s had to watch his movements since. 

You make your way closer to Ryekie, as quietly as you can. The crackling of the eggs and meat hide your footsteps, so thankfully, you can easily do so. Thinking about it, sneaking up on Ryekie has always been effortless, and for a Class S superhero, you’ve certainly managed to often catch him by surprise. You’re not sure whether he actually lets his guard down around you, or it’s simply a front; regardless, the act makes you feel welcomed and wanted, as though Ryekie wants you to feel like an equal partner to him. It grounds his boisterous personality, and it’s admittedly kind of adorable being able to surprise someone of his stature.

You wait for the opportune moment. Ryekie finishes tending to the meat, releases the handle of the pan, and places the spatula down on the counter. Right there. You snuggle him from behind, wrapping your arms around his powerful abdomen and chest muscles. 

Ryekie yelps at this unexpected touch, and static lightly shocks the two of you. He fumbles to turns the stove off, and wheels around. 

“H-how many times do I have to tell you to not sneak up on me, partner? You know how my powers can get.” As though apologizing, Ryekie brings his thick arms around you in a thunderous, affectionate embrace. “Only one person in this household can give surprise Justice Hugs, okay?” 

He places his large palm on your cheek. You can almost feel an electrical buzz on your skin where he touches. It’s not painful. In fact, it feels comforting and warm. “You’re not hurt, are you?” 

You respond by nodding and gently placing your own palm on one of Ryekie’s pec muscles. You could try for his square jaw, but his stature makes that motion difficult for you. That, and you have… certain needs tonight. 

He gets the message and smirks. “…Well, judging by those adventurous little hands of yours… I can tell you’re just fine.” 

Ryekie unties his apron, sets it aside, and moves to the living room to recline. You follow, kneeling in front. “I’m basically finished with dinner, but considering how you’re acting, it sounds like you’re much more thirsty than hungry, hmm?” He begins to tease at his shirt. It was custom made to fit his frame, but right now it does nothing more than wrap tightly against all that heroic bulk underneath. 

“I can’t just ignore a citizen so clearly in need,” Ryekie chuckles, bringing his arms up to flex his immense biceps. The sudden motion of his muscular form —combined with the puffing out of his thick chest— causes his torso to take up most of your vision. His pecs press themselves into your cheek; out of the corner of your eye you see that the shirt buttons begin to give way, and you're pretty sure you hear the fabric audibly strain. 

Oh yes, this is exactly what you needed. Part of you wanted to pounce and relieve him of all his clothing right then and there, but you knew better. If there’s one thing your education has taught you, it’s that sometimes it’s best to savor things. There was time.

You reach for one of Ryekie’s arms and bring it down to your level, where you start planting kisses. First on the palm, then slowly up the forearm, feeling the defined, sculpted muscles and strong tendons that strengthen his punches. Your mouth and hands continue the climb. You mark his upper arm with similar motions, lightly cupping his tricep while massaging his cannonball bicep with your fingers, feeling its heft and mass. 

“Enjoying ourselves, a-aren’t we?” Ryekie stammers. You respond by planting smooches on the bicep muscle directly, tracing its curvature and the vein that visibly snakes along it with your tongue. The sensation of his arm muscles getting massaged and orally explored gets Ryekie excited, and his body can’t help but create a stronger electric current. Rather than discharge it out and risk hurting you, however… 

…he chooses to infuse it into his body. 

[SHRRIP!] 

Ryekie’s beefy physique heaves outward with increased size, tearing the shirt wide open. His bicep, which was barely restrained by his white dress shirt, bursts through the fabric seam as though it were waiting for this exact moment. 

You’re momentarily stunned. “Thought I’d help you out a little,” Ryekie pants, who continues by flexing right in front of you, his upper arms now physically larger than your head. Delightfully, the motion also causes his massive pecs to snap into granite-hard relief in response.

You waste no time. Your tongue and hands explore every inch of the muscle mass, feeling the volume and weight of all that newly-grown, thunderous python. Ryekie flexes his arms a few more times, and you swear each time a bicep shunts upwards into a rock-hard, flexed state, it infuses itself with new size and engorges even bigger.

“You’re quite the muscle addict, aren’t you?~” Ryekie saunters, placing your torso between his upper arm and pec in a playful headlock. He makes sure to not squeeze too hard, but with his larger physique, all that bulked-up supermass ends up pressing in on you from all sides. “Think you can free yourself from my grasp, hmm?” he coos. You drag your tongue across his pec and armpit, which catches Ryekie off-guard. “Oh? Even bigger, huh? Heh, seems like a hero’s work is never done—Nhhh!” he grunts, giving his chest a flex, causing it to throb out ever larger. You feel practically smothered in gigantic, growing, sweaty tigertit. You’re in heaven, but you want even more. 

You make a motion to escape from the headlock, and Ryekie happily obliges. Other areas should get attention as well, so you turn to face him in order to make a decision. However, something catches your eye. 

Ryekie himself is sporting a very noticeable semi-boner, although it appears he hasn’t realized it yet. In his natural state, he was always… particularly gifted in the nether regions; now that his ability to strengthen himself had taken effect, he had a veritable city building straining against his pants. You silently chuckle to yourself; you haven’t touched anywhere near there. For all his jokes, Ryekie was quite the “muscle addict” himself! 

Well. Time to see how he handles something more personal.

You reach out, feeling the cobblestone abdominals and obliques that formed Ryekie’s midsection. Normally they were quite defined; however, with this new power boost they looked like a rippling fortress wall. Each abdominal clearly jutted out from the other sets of muscles, and you happily traced these delineations with your tongue. You explored in and around his superheroic midsection, and every time Ryekie shuddered, those core muscles flexed and shifted underneath. 

Eventually you make your way to his upper chest, and here you decide to give your thunder hero another shock. You lean forwards and grab his bulging lats with your palms, using those incredibly thick back muscles to pull yourself in, pull Ryekie down, and plant a passionate kiss right on his rugged lips. You hold yourself close, wanting to savor this electricity, wanting to capture this moment where his soft, warm lips and tongue intermingle with yours. Much like before, a pleasing thrum emanates its way into your body, almost as though Ryekie is made of energy itself. 

You finally break away. “Mmm. You’re a sucker for romance, hm..?” Ryekie coos, eyes half-lidded. 

You nod…. and then slowly become aware of your situation. The physical movement that was needed to kiss Ryekie has, additionally, caused your torso to wedge itself right between his pecs. You can get yourself out easily enough, but you also notice that your hands have slipped away from his back and are now resting…directly on his plump, pink nipples. 

Ryekie already knows. He can tell how your fingers hesitantly circle each aureola, and when he feels them give momentary purchase he’d give one of his striped, swollen superpecs a slight tense. Oh, how you love it: the tactile sensation of the muscle fibers bunching up, shunting his ridiculous cat chest out into titanium relief, or how they similarly soften, allowing themselves to be squeezed and molded by your eager hands. Each tense builds up more residual power within him, and your arms are slowly forced further apart as Ryekie’s thunderchest grows.

He gradually stops with the teasing and then motions, bringing his strong hands to yours. Under his guidance, you press your fingers directly, firmly, into his nipple meat. He takes his own palms away, places them under each pec, and heaves them upwards, giving you a better angle from which to work. “You go out to do who knows what, leaving me so, so desperate for milking,” Ryekie sarcastically chides. He’s aware how ridiculous the statement sounds, but a small part of it is true. Pectoral play is a favorite of his, and the hellish workdays at your university sometimes keep you two apart longer than you’d like. Well, you have all evening. Ryekie wants to be milked and worshiped? So be it.

You give each nipple a hard yank. Ryekie instinctively moans, his chest tensing up as he begins production. A thin liquid begins to moisten your hands as you work, tugging on the flesh, kneading into the pecmeat. Occasionally you bend over to give each nipple a proper oral servicing; biting and licking seemed to be just as effective, as exploring the nipple meat with your mouth instead of your hand somehow causes Ryekie to ramp up both milk production and innate electrical power. As you work, Ryekie’s strength compounds on itself; his chest now resembling actual boulders of striated, throbbing tiger-pec, his muscular form threatening to dwarf the most hulking Kaibutsu. If he were standing up, Ryekie would have nearly buckled over in erotic pleasure, but he knows that as a superhero, he must be steadfast against all adversity. He grimaces, grunts, and forces himself to stay lucid. 

His member has similarly grown. It has evolved from its previous length into something that can only be described as a lightning rod, something that is quite possibly too big for all current clothing sizes. The girth has proportionally grown with its length, and as you work you can feel its warm, throbbing shaft press into your back. 

You consider using it as a cushion to prop yourself up in case you want to take a breather…and you test that idea out by leaning back. The sudden pressure on his shaft causes Ryekie to loudly gasp, his milk production kicking into even higher gear. The sensation of his chest and nipples being worshipped by his beloved partner, combined with the immense pressure on his cock? It was almost too much to bear. Ryekie needed release soon, and he started to reach for his shaft with his own two supermuscled arms.

However. Who said Ryekie was going to get off so easily? You grab his hands and push them back, loudly slapping his tits as punishment. They were reddened and sore from all your handiwork, throbbing with supercharged tigermeat, delicious milk dribbling down each and pooling in the crevices between his pecs, abdominals, and arms. They were so voluminous that, from your lowered vantage point, they began to partially obscure Ryekie’s handsome face. Not an issue; you’ve seen what he’s looked like up to this point. His expressions have been absolutely scrumptious, and judging from the various grunts and moans he’s been making, the superhero has been practically begging you for more stimulation and growth. What an absolute slut. 

And who could blame him? Nobody had ever worshiped or touched him this way before you came along. It was obvious that he was at his best when he was with you, both professionally and privately. You released all his stops and let him perform at his peak, and you’ve been the catalyst that helped him discover new powers and abilities that he never could on his own. You complete him.

Grinning, you slide off of your penile perch and being worshiping the other parts of his body that have been, so far, neglected. You wrap your hands around his calves, tracing the muscles and veins that keep his running form tight. You bask in his thighs and quads, kneading your palms into the superhumanly-developed teardrop muscles that let Ryekie bound over obstacles while on the job. You lick his inner thighs, tracing the thick sartorius muscle that frames his quads, drag your tongue up his leg muscles, and encircle the base of his furry nuts and shaft with your eager mouth. 

Ryekie was nearly at his limit. His glistening thunder rod was at full mast and beginning to leak copious amounts of pre, and his sweaty, hyperdeveloped beefbod throbbed with such size, fervor and strength that it looked as though he was on the verge of transforming into a different beast entirely. There was just so much of him… everywhere. His hulking, muscular form threatened to take up a good portion of the room you two were occupying, and you’re sure that if he were to stand up at his full height, he’d have to exit the house through the garage door. 

And yet, he was in pure bliss. “I don’t want to stop growing…D-don’t stop touching…” Ryekie moaned with a lilt to his voice that almost sounded drunk. 

You flash him a devilish grin, and take everything into overdrive. 

You resume your seat and pump his monolithic megapecs as much as you can, grabbing his heaving chestmeat and recklessly kneading it like dough. It responds in kind, shunting out further the more you push it, throbbing bigger the more you slap it, producing more milk the more you bite at it. It was like milking an ever-growing, meaty udder. The floor around you is soaked with milk and pre, and as Ryekie’s moans become more desperate and guttural, so does the ferocity of his growth surges. He’s the biggest you’ve ever seen him, but who’s to say this is his limit? Not you, and certainly not him. If anything, It looked like he was reaching a new threshold of ability. What happens if the two of you pursue this for a longer period of time, without the restrictions of education or work? Daydreaming, you ponder: what happens if you let Ryekie grow even bigger…and bigger…and bigger…

You snap back to the present, where those restrictions still exist. Reluctantly, you force yourself to end it. You reach up, grab the green tie that has been stuffed between Ryekie’s colossal cat tits, and yank his face to yours to exchange one last, sloppy kiss. Ryekie can’t hold himself together anymore, flexing his gargantuan, inhumanly-muscled body, as though to squeeze out the last few surges of size from it before the inevitable discharge.

Ryekie roars.

His resulting orgasm lasts for what seems to be entire minutes. The thick liquid physically smacks into the ceiling, then slowly, languidly, drips back down and covers the two of you in warm superspunk. You embrace each other on the floor, spent, the lightning superhero positively aglow. As Ryekie shrinks back down, you notice that his default physique has become…larger than before. Discernibly so. You make a mental note to bring up this new ability to Parallel Flight later. 

Ryekie, known as the superhero Zap the Justice, opens his eyes, kindly looks into yours, and chuckles.

“We better get started on cleanup, partner! Dinner might get cold.”


End file.
